That’s the parting shot Nutshellmail encourages its users to throw at those who unfollow them on Twitter. Nutshellmail, by the way, is a Twitter application that sends me via email digests of my Twitter and Facebook friends updates. It’s cool in that it also reports new followers and individuals who unfollow me.
Unmitigated freaks. Bah.
You will have guessed by now. I’m a strong believer in tit for tat. I have no guilt unfollowing right back. I look forward to the maniacal glee of punching that unfollow button. Not exactly like guillotine chopping off heads, but in my mind that will have to do.
Until today.
A celebrity blogger who I hold in the highest esteem unfollowed me.
Jesus Christ. What have I done to earn his distrust? I read almost everything he’s promoted. I know his children by name and “liked” them when their pictures show on his media updates. I read his blog religiously and leave comments the few times I feel confident to share my opinion.
Nutshellmail whispers, “Get back at him.Tell him he smells like cheese.”
I balk. A grown up man, am I not? I can live this down. This is nothing but a minor setback. It’s not as if we’re drinking buddies. I’d go on with my dignity intact. Easy choice.
But I have to preserve my sanity. Can’t afford a meltdown because of this tempest in a teacup.
So here goes: You are an insufferable peacock, sir. And you smell like cheese. With all due respect, sir.”
There. I felt better now.
PS: For the life of me, I haven’t got the nerve to unfollow my idol. He’s far too invaluable to let go. At least, that’s how I feel at this time.
I‘m 37 years old, a political scientist, working at a college in Norway. I have a lovely wife and two amazing kids. We have a nice big house, and two cars, and lots of stuff we don’t need. I earn enough money to have a good time whenever I feel like it. My life seems to be close to perfect, but there’s something missing.
I’m the first in my family with a university degree. At the time, I thought that my parents looked at me as some kind of a hero. Now, I only think that they were fairly proud when I received my masters degree. They didn’t really know anything about political science, they still don’t. They believe that I didn’t really need a masters degree, or maybe just a different one.
I remember watching my mom at work while I was a kid. She’s a chef, and she loves her work. My dad, he’s working with horses all day long. I can’t imagine him doing anything else. They’re having a wonderful time working.
Work is about money. It isn’t supposed to be fun, right?
It’s Thursday morning, 8 am, I’m finally alone. I have just finished taking a shower. I’m walking down the stairs carrying my laptop. It’s time for tea. It’s time to unfold and explore.
I’ve been looking for independence, away from the college. I’ve been looking for a way to earn money, by doing what I love doing, without struggling to make it through the day and without the strict rules associated with conventional work.
I’m at home, testing the work at home environment, and testing my skills being my own boss.
This includes feeding the cat. And scratching and cuddling it.
A few hours passes by, as I drink tea, eat breakfast, and read the newspapers.
Looking out the window, I see my 64-year-old neighbor. He’s walking from the cab, towards his front door. He stops, looks into the air. He turns around, slowly, walks back to the cab and picks up two plastic bags. Stops, he turns his head, with his eyes closed. It looks as if he’s smelling the flowers and absorbing the sun and the wind.
The dishes. I need to wash them before my wife gets back home. I can probably wait a few hours, but I have to wash them. The dishes occupy my mind. understanding that I should probably wash them right away. That’s the only way to erase the image. I can’t focus when I’m not focused.
I’ve been studying the gurus, the work at home gurus. The men and the women earning six figures doing what they love doing, while spending their time wherever they want to be. Some travel the world, others stay in coffee shops. I know the drill. It’s all about passion, doing what they love – and of course, it’s about hard work.
I’m all for hard work, but to me, it should also be about passion, but it’s not. I don’t know what I love doing. That’s why every day’s been about feeding the cat, watching people, reading newspapers, washing dishes and staying unfocused and cluttered.
Just then, while surfing the web, looking for the latest news, I saw a website of an organization dedicated to connect people through lending to alleviate poverty. I looked at it, again, and then some more. I felt a new kind of energy flowing through my body, I felt happiness and comfort. And an extreme focus. I couldn’t take my eyes from it. My mind was preoccupied. All I could think of was this, only this. It felt like an awakening.
I found a passion for helping people who really need it. It makes me feel good about myself, and it makes the business part of my online adventure worth the time and effort. From now on, every time I receive a check in the mail, whenever I get a notification from PayPal, I’ll help fund an inspiring entrepreneur in a country far away via kiva.org.
My job has never been my passion, but now my job helps me with my passion. It gives everything meaning.
Passion is what makes me jump out of bed way too early in the morning with a smile on my face. It’s what keeps me from going to sleep in the evening. It’s what makes every day a wonderful day, and the earth the best place in the universe.
I’m so happy that I’ve asked myself the most important question of them all. It took a while to find the answer. But I believe that finally resolving what I’m really passionate about is the only reason I’m fairly successful today.
What happened to me last January 14 was comical if it weren’t a bit serious. I just got off from the van that took me to Calapan City. I had papers to follow up at the regional office of the Bureau of Internal Revenue (BIR)- something to do with the small family business.
What’s funny about [...]
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